


A State of Mind

by thats_vexing



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thats_vexing/pseuds/thats_vexing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the nights in Atlantis became crisper and less humid, Jason couldn’t help but think back to Christmas at home. It was the smallest things, like the warmth of the fire in the tavern, or when Pythagoras got carried away again talking about roasted meat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling festive, and so this happened… 10 days until christmas!!
> 
> “Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind. ”   
> ― Mary Ellen Chase

When the nights in Atlantis became crisper and less humid, Jason couldn’t help but think back to Christmas at home. It was the smallest things, like the warmth of the fire in the tavern, or when Pythagoras got carried away again talking about roasted meat. 

The worst instance was definitely in the market, when a plump woman pulled up a cart filled with spices to sell. Jason was immediately transfixed by the rich aromas of the stall; he faltered as he came across a bunch of cinnamon sticks. He picked one up, and the warm spice filled his nose and took him back to his childhood, to carefully unwrapping Christmas ornaments laced with memories, hanging decorations on the tree, and playing by himself on Christmas Day while his family talked over his head, their voices soft, soothing murmurs. A whiff of earthy, sweet nutmeg reminded him instantly of long hours watching his mother cook, occasionally being allowed to help in the smallest, almost insignificant ways. Dried, sliced oranges, fragrant and bright brought back memories of Christmas dinners so poignant that his mouth began to water.

"Jason? Jason!"

And suddenly, he wasn’t in a warm, comfortable house enjoying Christmas with his family, but back on a bustling, dusty street, with Pythagoras gently pulling on his arm.

"Do you want to buy that?" Pythagoras asked carefully, arms currently filled with vegetables. It took Jason an embarrassingly long time to remember the cinnamon stick in his hand.

"No, no," he replaced the spice carefully, "sorry, I don’t know what came over me."

"Are you alright, you look a bit…"

"I’m fine," Jason cut in quickly, changing the subject before Pythagoras got worked up about nothing. "Here, let me take some of those," he wrestled an armful of vegetables from the puzzled man and made a hasty retreat back to their house. 

—

"There’s something bothering you," Pythagoras blurted later that day, sat at the table with his calculations in front of him, that Jason had noticed that he hadn’t even looked at them for the past half an hour.

Jason continued peeling potatoes for a second too long. He hadn’t expected to completely reassure Pythagoras back in the market, but had at least hoped to save him the worry. “Hmm? No, no there isn’t. Not bothering me, as such. I’m fine.” Pythagoras raised his eyebrow, completely unconvinced. Jason sighed and stared at the pile of potato peel, unable to look back at that searching gaze. “I was just thinking about a festival we have at home. You don’t seem to celebrate it here.”

"Tell me about it." Pythagoras mumbled, idly curling some parchment between his long fingers.

It took Jason a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Everyone gets together, on the same day every year, and you just enjoy everyone’s company. There is always food, lots of it, and we celebrate being together with friends and family. Everyone has their own traditions, we decorate the house, and we give gifts to each other.”

Jason looked curiously back to Pythagoras once he shook the memories of turkey and tinsel. Pythagoras looked genuinely relieved and it was more bearable to meet his eye now that he didn’t look stressed over something so silly as Jason’s nostalgia. “When is this festival?”

"The 25th of December." December, usually he would be wrapping up warm to combat the cold, frozen hands and numb toes, breath curling at the bus stop in delicate wisps… The closest he has experienced here was a light breeze at night. "The 12th month," he clarified.

Pythagoras fell silent for a while, and the room was filled again with the sounds of ruffling paper and scratching nibs. “It sounds bizarre,” he commented under his breath, and had a pile of vegetable peel thrown at him for his trouble.

—

One morning, Jason woke up to find that Pythagoras was already awake, but had made no move to get up. Usually, Jason was woken by Pythagoras slipping out of their tiny bed – it was really only designed for one person, but they couldn’t afford another – in the early hours of the morning to work. Today, he seemed to be content staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Can’t you sleep?” Jason asked, trying not to show his worry. Since the events in the desert, Pythagoras had had a few tumultuous nights. Those had been unpleasant experiences for the both of them.

But Pythagoras seemed quite calm and well rested, stretching luxuriously next to him. “Good morning. No, it’s not that… I have something for you.” He didn’t wait for Jason to respond, and leant out of the bed and to pick up something from underneath it, dropping it into Jason’s lap. Jason sat up, curious; it was a hessian bag; he stared at it in confusion for a moment before picking it up and realising there was something inside it.

"Today is the day of your festival," Pythagoras explained, "I calculated the date."

Jason was speechless, he stared at the small gift in disbelief for a moment, before turning all of his attention to Pythagoras, who was staring at him openly, excited but with a slight trepidation 

"Have I done it right? Oh gods, I probably shouldn’t have…."

Before he could get any further, Jason shut him up with a kiss. In that kiss, he tried to show all of his gratitude, his appreciation for this simple thought. “It’s— no, you’re perfect, you’re brilliant, thank you.” He couldn’t really summon anything more eloquent.

"Why don’t you open it?" Pythagoras asked, face flushed and smiling gently. Jason hadn’t realised he had been staring at him in open awe for a good thirty seconds now. 

Jason nodded, and pulled the bag open carefully where it had been knotted. A most delicious smell came from it before he could see what was inside, further investigation showed a collection of various spices in small bags or containers, and at the top of the collection, a small bunch of cinnamon sticks.

"But, Py, this must have cost—"

"It looked like it made you happy." Pythagoras interrupted. When Jason have him a baffled look, he continued, "the other day, at the market. These scents must have reminded you of a happier time."

With the spices safely in his lap, Jason pulled Pythagoras into a strong hug. He buried his nose into the crook of Pythagoras’ neck, and relished the way he squirmed, as he did every time. “I am happy,” he mumbled into his lover’s skin, breathing in his familiar scent, “I’m happy here, with you.”

They stayed like that for a long time, Pythagoras’ fingers began to gently comb through Jason’s hair, and he chuckled, “Did I get it right? Your bizarre festival.”

Jason reluctantly pulled away, only to rest their foreheads together. “Yes, yes, you did.” He gave in to the urge to kiss away Pythagoras’ elated grin. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
